From Madness
by Senashenta
Summary: Before Vanyel, he was alone, always. Before Gala, he was a demon, cursed. Before it all, with his brother as his only friend, he was a troubled lad, indeed...


**Disclaimer:** Valdemar and concepts, Tylendel and Staven Freylenne and Gala belong to Mercedes Lackey.

**Notes:** Well, I don't write fics about Mercedes Lackey's characters very often—I tend to shy away from them, just because I'm afraid I'll do something with them that people won't like. Or, something that _I'm_ not entirely pleased with. Anyway, aside from _Behind The Blue_, the characters from the books usually only have cameos. But _From Madness_ is just a little piece that I thought up randomly last night, and typed up today. Pointless stuff, but somewhat entertaining nonetheless, ne?

**FROM MADNESS  
By Senashenta**

Not a single shard of light pierced the blackness and shadows of the room—and such darkness created a dizzying sensation, a feeling of spiraling out of control. The walls appeared to be both closing in and at the same time fading away... and on one of the twin beds in the quarters, a young man stared upward in the direction of the ceiling, eyes open but unseeing and unfocused, consumed and hypnotized by the night.

"How are you feeling?"

The voice echoed out of nowhere, compassionate and understanding, and then paused for a moment to wait for a response. When none came, the speaker sighed—with shuffling noises, he resettled himself in one of the chairs in the room, unseen of course, and then tried again; "I know you're awake, 'Lendel, so there's no use pretending that you're not."

The boy in the bed blinked slowly and turned his head in the direction of his brother. "Staven... I did it again, didn't I?"

Hesitation. "Well... yes."

"Did I hurt anyone this time?"

"No," Staven shook his head—and then attempted a joke; "but you scared the maids witless. Mannie's probably _still_ under her bed, all wide eyes and babbling nonsense."

"Not funny." Tylendel whispered, and turned his eyes back to the ceiling once more.

"Sure it was," the other boy shrugged, "you just don't feel like laughing." An uncomfortable pause and he waved a hand through the blackness, "'Lendel, would you mind terribly if I opened the curtains? The moon's out tonight, and believe it or not it's brighter out there than it is in here."

"Do whatever you want. I don't care."

Staven moved slowly, pacing over to the window, his footsteps sounding on the cold stone floor—Tylendel was acting _different_. Wrong. Even after coming out of one of his fits, he never shut himself away from his twin, but now... through their rudimentary Bond, Staven could Feel it—could feel that Tylendel was close to breaking, giving up and losing hope.

_Wish there was something I could do._ He thought wistfully as he yanked the heavy curtains open. Before his brother's—illness—stuck, the thick fabric hadn't adorned the windows to their shared room. But since Tylendel's falling ill, the thin drapes they'd had in the past had been replaced by oppressive black velvet. It was all part of their parent's bid to cut him off from the rest of the world, as he was—or, so they would have him believe—Demon-possessed.

"Hey," he forced himself to sound more jovial than he felt, and looked across the now-brighter room at his brother. "If you're feeling up to it, we should go outside for a bit."

"It's the middle of the night, Staven."

"It's not that late—and you need to _do_ something for a change. I'm starting to think you're using this whole thing as an excuse to lay around on your backside all day and do nothing but sleep."

"You know that's not true." Tylendel protested.

"Then get yourself up and come on outside with me." Staven jerked a thumb toward the window, "it's a nice night. We can go riding or something if you want."

"I'd rather not..." but he sat up anyway, favoring his twin with a Look that spoke of untold depression and self-hatred.

"Come on." Rolling his eyes and heading over to the bed, Staven grabbed hold of Tylendel's arm and heaved the other boy to his feet, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder once he was standing; "it's time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself, 'Lendel."

The response was instantaneous and made him wish he hadn't spoken; "that's easy for you to say, Stav. That's easy for you to say."

Between their shared room and the stables, they didn't encounter anyone. It wasn't surprising, really, since the residents of the manor had taken to avoiding Tylendel at all costs. They were frightened of him—and most of them thought of him as a cursed. Or worse, in some cases.

Tylendel was silent, and continuously stared downward at the floor.

Staven was silent as well, watching his brother from the corner of his eye.

There were people watching them—he could just feel it. Eyes peered from around corners and between cracks in the walls, and voices whispered, thinking they wouldn't hear. And if _he_ could hear them whispering, Staven knew Tylendel could hear more than that. He could hear what they were _thinking_—and that was something Staven dreaded even the thought of.

"I can't help it, Staven." Tylendel said softly, "it just... happens."

"I know."

They reached the stables quickly and without trouble, and set about saddling two of the palfreys. Since the stable hand had bade a hasty retreat upon sight of them, they had no choice but to do it themselves—and for the first time since waking, the younger twin looked as if he was relaxing.

The horses, at least, didn't cower from his touch.

"What do you think it is, Stav? What do you think is wrong with me?"

It was the first time Tylendel had spoken since they set out, and Staven took a moment to answer—"I don't know... but I _do_ know you're not a demon." Another stab at a joke; "since I'm stuck in that box you call a head all the time, I'd know if you were."

No response. Tylendel's gaze fixed firmly on the back of his horse's head, and he twisted the reign absently.

"Really, 'Lendel..." Staven sighed, "I don't know what it is... it could be anything, I suppose. You might _be_ cursed—but whatever it is, it's not your fault."

"Do you really believe that?"

Firm. "Of course. Now come on—I'll race you!"

Before the younger boy could even blink, his brother had kicked his horse and was off like an arrow—leaving him behind in only a breath. And Tylendel, despite his recent downward spiral, couldn't help the grin that spread over his face at the sight, and spurred his own horse on with the same kind of impulse that he had shown often—_before_.

Where they intended to race _to_, neither of them knew—but their home faded into the distance quickly, and was replaced by trees and bush as they thundered through the nearby forest. It was exhilarating—and for an endless moment of time both of them could forget completely about the strange events that had plagued their lives of late.

Staven's horse had a head start, but Tylendel's was faster; soon, he had caught up, and with only a foot between their respective mounts, he nudged his horse to pass the other. It responded immediately, turning to the right—

—and then something caught its leg, and it tripped.

It seemed to take forever to fall, and Tylendel could see Staven continuing on ahead for a few yards before he wrenched his mount to skidding a stop. Trees, branches, brush and earth all melded together as he tumbled—and a now-familiar feeling began to overwhelm him as he seemed to watch himself fall from somewhere outside of his own body.

His horse screamed shrilly—and was cut off when it collided with the ground, its neck snapping with a sharp _crack_. Soft brown eyes rolled up into its skull instantly, but the body continued to tumble for another few seconds, taking its rider with it.

He was thrown free just before their momentum stopped, and found himself lying on his side in the dirt, staring at the horse, unable to move—but he was not paralyzed. Eyes closing, he took a steadying breath as that horribly familiar wave of nausea and panic overwhelmed him and whatever had taken up residence inside him struggled for freedom—

"Tylendel!"

Staven's voice, and running footsteps.

_No—stay away—I'm going to—I can't stop it—_

His brother dropped to the ground beside him, worry and fright etched into his very being and traveling down their Bond in rolling waves. Unable to decide what to do, and unaware of Tylendel's internal struggle, his hands hovered for a moment...

_Stav—go—get someone—I can't—_

The force inside him was winning against his will, and as it did he felt his own consciousness fading out; a faint wind began to whisper in the trees, and Staven's horse nickered nervously, shuffling its hooves in the grass and leaves of the wood. Soon, it would whip itself into a frenzy, and nothing but destruction would exist in its wake—

Tylendel's mind screamed, but he could do nothing as the hidden power flared to life and—

_:Stop.:_

Something slammed into it, silencing its call and forcing it back down to the depths of his mind where it had come from—and held it there, unwavering, pinning it in place despite its writhing anger and drive to be free.

_:Tylendel—open your eyes.:_

He hadn't realized he'd shut them—they opened slowly to look at Staven—

—and instead melted into a sea of compassionate blue. An ocean of sapphire so deep and wide it compared to nothing else, and a sapphire that carried with it as much love and understanding as anyone could hope to receive in a lifetime.

"What—?" He managed to croak weakly.

_:My name is Gala.:_ The same Voice that had spoken before told him softly, _:and you, Tylendel, are my Chosen.:_

Staven watched, torn between shock and fear, as the Companion leaned down to look into his brother's eyes—and then Tylendel reached a hesitant hand to touch her nose, and he backed away, shuffling through the grass and dirt to a safe distance from the two.

She was lovely—

So beautiful—

A vision of moonlight and grace—

And she had come to take his twin away.

Bitterness warred with sadness, and also with hope. He didn't want Tylendel to go, but if she could do something to help him... then how could he even consider stopping her? So he stared, wide eyed and confused, as they spoke to one another without words—and as those same words echoed in his own head, passed along to him through his Bond with his brother.

_She'll take him..._

Anger was on the verge of winning over the other emotions that were stirring inside him—and then a feeling traveled toward him from Tylendel, anything negative that he had been feeling died upon its arrival.

Happiness.

How long had it been, since Tylendel had been truly happy?

_:I will take care of him.:_ The Companion—_Tylendel's_ Companion—turned her luminescent crystal eyes toward him, shifting her attention from her new Chosen for a single moment. _:I will take care of him, Staven Freylenne. As you did.:_

And on those words, he knew with the utmost certainty that she would.

All would be well.

She had turned his brother's mind away from the track to madness.

At least for now.


End file.
